Addison Meets the Manipulative Bastard
by Angel-of-the-silence
Summary: The full title is, The One in Which Addison Meets the Manipulative Bastard... stupid title line isn't long enough. Anways, Private Practice/ House MD crossover. Addison goes East to consult for two friends, Weiss and Savvy, who are adopting a baby.
1. Chapter 1

My phone rings, jarring me out of sleep. I glance quickly at the clock, it reads a little after six in the morning. 'Who the hell wants me at this hour?' I wonder and reach for the handset.

" 'Lo?" I slur.

"Addie?" A female voice, way too perky for this early.

"Yes?" I'm slowly waking up.

"Addie, it's Savvy," One of my best friends from New York. No wonder she was perky, it must be after nine there. A sudden thought of Derek and Weiss and Savvy and me at Joe's in Seattle swims through my mind.

"Savvy, hi! What's going on?" I sit up, drawing the covers up around me. I attempt to banish my ex-husband from my mind.

"Well, I just wanted to know if you would do me a favor?"

"Ok, I'm not sure what I can do from here, but I'll try." There's a long pause on her end.

"Weiss and I have been chosen to adopt a baby boy, but he isn't due for another couple of weeks." I can't tell if she's giggling or crying. There was a time I could tell without a doubt.

"And?" I'm trying to make sense of what she's saying.

"Addie, I want you to come out here… the baby has a birth defect. The doctor we talked to this morning said it looks like my- myelomen- myelomeningocele," she trips over the word before slowing it down the last time in an attempt to sound the word out. "I'm freaked out, Addie… that's a big word that I don't have any clue what it means for the baby. Weiss and I want you to come and give us a second opinion." I sigh. "Please, Addie… I value your medical opinion above all others."

"Yeah… let me talk to Naomi, I'll ask her for some time off."

"Thank you," Savvy sounds relieved, "The doctors have us very concerned."

"Well, it's a form of spina bifida, and that's somewhat fixable… so even if that's what it is, don't worry." We make small talk for a few minutes, I ask her how she's doing. She tells me that the transition to menopause has been rough on her and Weiss' sex life, but I can hear in her voice how much she's trying. After breast cancer claimed her mother, Savvy had come to me in Seattle to have me remove her breasts as well as her ovaries and uterus.

"Oh, by the way Addie, we're in Princeton… at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. The birth mother is from here, and we wanted her to be comfortable and have someplace close by where she could get her checkups." I write down the name of the hospital and the treating physician… a Dr. Berger. We say our goodbyes, and hang up.

I call Naomi, she picks up on the third ring.

"Hey, I need some time off, I have to go back East." I outline what Savvy told me, and to my surprise, Naomi lets me go without an argument. I hang up and call Delta Airlines. Booking myself a round trip flight for four days, I hope that's enough time. Just in case, I purchase ticket insurance.

Finally getting out of bed at six-forty, I start packing a bag. Never having been much of a t-shirt and jeans kind of girl, I pack mostly nice slacks and shirts, but I throw in my Yves-St. Laurent suit and my best pair of heels just in case. At seven twenty, I shower and put my toiletries in a smaller bag and toss them in my suitcase as well. As I zip my bag, I'm actually kind of grateful to be getting away from LA for a few days. Finding a nice pair of black slacks, I pull on a cranberry colored sweater and dig a coat out of the back of my closet. I probably look foolish dressed like this in LA, but I'll fit right in on the coast.

At seven fifty, I walk out the door and catch a cab to the airport. Looking through my sunglasses, I take in early March in Los Angeles. The sky is a clear blue, surprising because it's usually a scummy grey from the smog. Palm trees flash past, and I can see the sun peeking between buildings periodically. In spite of myself I smile. I have my sleeves rolled up, and I feel great, it's just perfect outside, not too hot, and not freezing.

At the airport, I check in and carry my coat to the gate. I thumb through the latest gossip rags and listen to my iPod. My flight gets called, and I spend the rest of the day bouncing across the country. From LA to Denver to Dallas to Atlanta and finally to Trenton. I find myself staring out the window more than reading my book, and thoughts of Weiss and Savvy fill my head. After a few fond memories featuring them, Derek and Mark start creeping into my thoughts. Pretty soon my head is crowded with memories of them, and I actually miss Derek more than I thought I did.

Weiss is waiting for me when I debark, he helps me carry my luggage to the car and drives me to the hospital.

"Where's Savvy," I ask.

"She's staying with Jen, they've admitted her to the hospital to run tests on the baby." We catch up as he drives.

When we get to the hospital, Weiss pulls into a parking garage and together we walk through a biting wind from the north. It whistles through the garage, a lonely haunting sound. We cross the street and enter the front doors of the hospital, and I feel excited. I miss the thrill of being a full-time surgeon. Admittedly, I'm a surgical junkie.

We go straight to the fifth floor and meet the birth mother, Jen, and Savvy. Savvy looks fragile, her skin like paper. Despite her frail appearance, she crushes me with a hug and a school-girl squeal. The four of us talk for a while, until the OB doctor comes in. I introduce myself, and feel a surge of pride when he pales a bit.

"Dr. Montgomery, it's a pleasure to meet you!" I feel like a rock star, it's nice to have my work recognized. In Seattle, no one could see past my marital status… the fact that I was the bitch who was married to McDreamy, and had ruined Meredith's life. God dammit, I'm a continent away, and she's _still_ haunting my every thought. Dr. Berger and I discuss Jen's stats and what I'm looking at when it comes to the baby.

It's not as bad as they first thought, the spina bifida is mild, and can be corrected in only a couple of hours. He talks me through the process we're going to be using, seeming more excited than irked.

"I don't mean to intrude on your OR or patient, I was asked by the adoptive parents… please don't let me overstep my bounds."

"On the contrary, Dr. Montgomery, we're a teaching hospital and I want my students to learn from one of the greatest pre-natal surgeons in the US. Your being here is a fantastic opportunity for my kids." We shake hands.

"Thank you for the opportunity, Dr. Berger."

"Please, call me Ian. Why don't we take a quick tour of the facility and get you some locker space and scrubs. I'd like to have Jen in surgery by two o'clock, if you can be ready by then."

"Absolutely, two sounds fantastic."

We roam the halls and Dr. Berger… Ian… points out the various wings of the hospital, focusing heavily on the surgical wing. The facility is absolutely beautiful, glowing wood paneling, and soft lighting, waterfalls in one lobby, and a state of the art clinic. The Denny Duquette Clinic is better, but this one is still nice. Not everyone gets 8.7 million to spend on their clinic. Especially not all in one lump sum.

When we return to the surgical wing, Ian shows me the locker room and takes off. I stash my bag in an empty locker along with my coat and go in search of Weiss and Savvy.


	2. Chapter 2

I sit in my office, idly listening to music and staring out the window. A pile of case files and charts sits on my desk, only waiting for a signature. Thirteen isn't as good at this charting thing as Cameron. Cameron would have just forged my signature and saved me the trouble.

I turn back to my desk, away from the grey, cloudy sky and bare trees. Reaching for a pen, I start signing off on charts for no other reason that it gives me something to do. 'Doesn't anybody get sick anymore?' I grouse to myself, scribbling my pen across page after page in file after file. After almost twenty minutes I'm done.

"God, I hate charting!" I exclaim softly to my empty office. We need a patient, these down days kill me. Next door, I hear the conference room door open and I sit up. Taub lets himself into my office.

"Do we have a case?" He asks. I shake my head.

"Ok… I'm going to take a walk up to…" he starts.

"No, you're going to wait right here until we get a case. Go wait in the conference room." I shoo him out. As soon as the door closes behind him, I turn my attention back to the music. Sing, Sing, Sing starts up and I turn it up a little bit and move into the conference room to pour myself a cup of coffee. Halfway across the room, I hear the trumpet come in. Flicking a look up, I find a gorgeous red-head walking down the hallway with Dr. Berger. They stride by, unaware of Taub and I on the other side of the glass.

For an instant we are frozen, watching them go by. When they round the corner and disappear, we sit in silence for a moment. Several fantasies play out in my mind in that silence. Taub ruins it.

"Wow," he says.

"Totally," I reply.

"Do you think she's married?"

"You're married."

"Yeah… maybe she has a sister," he muses, and we chuckle.

"Get real." I tell him. Kutner finally makes his appearance and under his arm is tucked a folder. He tosses the folder on the table, halfway between me and Taub.

"Got a fifteen year old girl, she's got low blood pressure and has been steadily losing weight for over six weeks." He briefs us.

"So, she has an eating disorder… so do almost a third of high-school aged girls." Taub jumps in.

"Where's Thirteen?" I ask.

"She, uh… she had an appointment," Kutner shrugs off my question, "This girl has severe muscle weakness…"

"If she has an eating disorder, that means she's not absorbing nutrients because she's either not eating enough, or she's purging the food before it has time to do her any good. Eventually her body is going to start using fat for fuel. When that's gone it moves on to muscle."

"I was thinking it might actually be Addison's." I pick up the file and thumb through it.

"Has anyone observed a darkening of her skin in the last six weeks?" I ask, cutting off Taub's reply.

"No one mentioned it." Kutner replies.

"Did anyone run a blood test on her?"

"Yeah… she had, umm… her CBC looked good, but her WBC count was slightly elevated," I place a finger on the page to mark my spot before fixing him with a stare. "Her mom said she was getting over a sinus infection…" he trails off, looking at me, "What?"

"Was there anything else you happened to notice in her file?"

"Not in regards to Addison's."

"Of course not… you idiot, she has normal cortisol levels. There's nothing wrong with her adrenal gland, however, she does appear to have some problems with her pancreas." I say.

"What do you mean?" Kutner asks, looking between Taub and me.

"I mean she's a _diabetic _you moron! She doesn't have Addison's, she's suffering a complication from diabetes called 'diabetic ketoacidosis'. She's got ketones plugging up her system. Get her some insulin and a big breakfast, that should go a long way towards helping." Kutner grabs the file I'm offering and disappears out the door. I turn to Taub.

"Go find me something better than that," I say. He's out the door almost before I finish speaking. I'm going to go see Wilson, keeping my ear to the ground for good cases, of course.


	3. Numb

The OR is alive with activity of every kind. Nurses march purposefully from one machine to the next in preparation for Jen's surgery. I pace the scrub room, reviewing the procedure in my mind a dozen times. Finally, the time comes, and I begin to scrub in. As I run the rough, sandy soap across my hands over and over, I keep repeating to myself a 'cut, suture, close' mantra. Beside me, other doctors, residents, and interns scrub and leave, but I stay standing at the sink.

"Pardon me," A voice says, "Are you Doctor Montgomery?"

"I am," I reply.

"We're ready for you now," he voice lilts with an Australian accent.

"Thank you… Doctor..?"

"Chase," he supplies, "I'll be monitoring the mother while you work on the baby." I follow him and a nurse steps up to gown me while a second provides gloves. On the table, Jen is prepped and under. I step up beside Ian, and he steps back to let me work. Standing over the patient, I can feel myself slipping effortlessly back into the saddle. I extend my hand to the scrub nurse, positioned to my right, exactly the way I requested.

"Eight blade." She places the scalpel delicately into my waiting hand, I turn my hand over and I begin to cut. Carefully maneuvering the blade around the baby, I have the uterus open before me in less than five minutes. Now comes the tricky part of getting the baby out far enough to operate. It takes us almost ten minutes to get him into a position where I can begin my work, but we get it done.

His spina bifida is more mild than it had looked on his ultrasound. A four hour job just turned into two. Surprising since the disease wasn't caught until the thirty-second week. They have waited until the thirty sixth week to fix it, which is more dangerous for the mother. However, he appears to be healthy in all other regards. I marvel at this tiny fingers and the head of hair he already has. As the nurses prepare to position him back in the uterus, my finger brushes his hand, and for the briefest moment, his little fingers grip mine.

And I nearly lose my composure in front of an OR full of strangers.

The instant he is settled back into the womb, and I make sure everything is as it should be, I ask Dr. Berger to close and I leave the OR as calmly as I can. In the scrub room, I tear off my gloves and toss them followed by the gown. When I leave the scrub room, I do so at a dead run. The first supply closet I find I crash through the door and collapse in the corner furthest from the door. At first, I am ok… I pull my scrub cap off and just sit staring at the wall.

After several minutes, the tears come. I am sobbing loudly and uncontrollably, on the verge of hysteria. Behind me I hear the door open and close, but I can't stop sobbing. No one bothers me, so I assume whoever came in got the picture that I need to be left alone for a minute. Sometime later, I calm the tide of tears, but I can't bring myself to get out of the floor just yet.

The door opens again and closes softly. I hear the rasp of fabric and swipe a hand across my face before turning. A man in a lab coat and suit stands in the middle of the room.

"I'm sorry," I apologize, "I'll go… get out of your way." I stand.

"You aren't in my way. Are you Doctor Montgomery?" I nod.

"Most days, I am. I'm Addison," I say, extending my hand. He takes my hand and we shake.

"James Wilson. I head the Oncology Department here."

"Oncology? What are you doing in the surgical wing?" I ask.

"Well, there's a funny story. Chase doesn't deal very well with the overly emotional. He called me because he didn't want to make things worse."

"He must have walked in right about the time I was losing control," I nod slowly, "Sacrificing you to my emotions, what a gentleman." I say.

"I'm used to the overly emotional… I'm the one that gets to hand out the death sentence. It never gets any easier," He sighs, "Would you care to grab some coffee?" he asks.

"I would love some coffee, let me stop at the locker room and clean up a little," I say. He walks me to the locker room and waits on a bench while I change out of my scrubs and into my suit. I wash my face and reapply make up, pausing to run a brush through my hair, wavy now from being up in a scrub cap for three hours. Twenty minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom feeling like a changed woman. As I approach Doctor Wilson, I see Ian look up at me in surprise and flash Wilson what I'm sure is supposed to be a covert thumbs up.

I'm impressed when he gives Ian a dirty look. Doctor Wilson seems like a gentleman. Walking down the hall, I comment on the exchange.

"Berger is an ass." I laugh at that. We converse all the way to the cafeteria.


	4. Chapter 4

A knock at the door puts me on edge. I glance around the room and go to the door.

"What's the password?" I ask.

"You're an ass," Taub replies. I step back and crack the door.

"I'm sorry, that's not what we're looking for try…"

"I found a case." He sighs.

"That's better." I step back and let him in.

"Where's your patient?"

"In your hand, I hope." Taub heaves another sigh and hands the folder over. I skim it quickly.

"Guillain- Barre? Are you kidding me?"

"I don't think that's what…"

"Oh, I'm sorry… I missed the part about the paralysis of the eye. It's more likely that he's suffering from Miller Fisher."

"You aren't even going to look at him?" Taub asks.

"Nope."

"I was right; you're an ass," He takes the file back and disappears out the door.

"Bring me something better!" I shout after him. Through the blinds, I see Taub turn to look at me. Without breaking stride, he mouths something that looks suspiciously like, 'eat me.'

A nurse bangs open the door and brings me a patient.

"Thank you, so much," I sneer at her as she leaves.

"Drop dead," she replies, closing the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Over mediocre coffee, Wilson and I talk about medicine and the difference between our jobs.

"My job makes me like the angel of death, sometimes. And it sucks, to have to tell someone that they have six months to live, or six weeks, or that they will probably never see the world outside this hospital again."

"Yeah, but don't you also get to tell people that they're going to be ok?"

"The not so soon to die are occasionally the least happy about their prognosis. Those who fight the disease and beat it are almost always grateful, but the misdiagnosed are usually madder than hell." He scoffs, "They should be grateful they get another chance to be with the ones they love."

"Have you lost someone?" I ask quietly.

"What? No, not personally… it's just that I see so many mothers and fathers who didn't beat it. Parents that left kids, young kids, because there was nothing more we could do. You can only hit the cancer with so much radiation and chemo, and you can only cut so many times before your patient decides that they've had enough. They quit fighting and they die."

"I will say this, medicine is tough… more so than any other field. I'm finding out that I may have made a mistake in giving up my game before I was done." I look down into my cooling coffee.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I am a _world class_ neo-natal surgeon who hung up the scalpel too soon. I heard an intern put it best; I'm 'strung out on the scalpel.' And I can't seem to find much comfort in my new practice. I went from having back to back surgeries to having, maybe, one patient a day. I went from being this kick ass _surgeon _to being… something else. Something not me."

"Why would you give up something like that?" He looks at me.

"I had some… um, issues, with the way things were run in Seattle. I had issues with Seattle in general, not just with the surgical administration."

"Issues?" He asks.

"My husband left me in New York, and I went to Seattle to get him back—only to discover that he was sleeping with one of his interns."

"Ah… infidelity is a powerful motivator," Doctor Wilson nods.

"Actually, I cheated on him first… with his best friend… and he took off for Seattle. I realized what an idiot I had been, so I followed him and we tried to salvage our marriage. After I accepted a position at Seattle Grace, I realized that Derek had already left me long before I came after him, and when I was rejected as a candidate for the Chief of Surgery position, I took a leave of absence and headed to Los Angeles. I fell in love with my best friend's private practice, co-op medical care center, and when she offered me a job, I took it. And I haven't really looked back. Only on days like today when I get the opportunity to be in the OR."

"Did you get a tour of the hospital? We could…"

"Doctor Berger showed me around," I interrupt, "But I didn't get to see very much of your clinic or your ER."

"Oh, would you like me to…"

"Sure, I'd love to see more of the hospital." We get up and trash our empty cups. He leads the way out of the cafeteria. Down the hall a little ways, we get stopped.

"Wilson. Wilson!" We turn and find a brunette coming towards us with a very angry stride.

"Cuddy," He says.

"What the hell is House up to? Has he told his fellows that it's ok to steal patients from other services?"

"I have no idea… it does sound like something he'd do. He came into my office today complaining of not having a patient."

"I hope you told him to…"

"Drop dead?" Wilson interrupts, supplying the phrase.

"…Go to the clinic," She frowns at him, "But that too." She turns to me. We size each other up for a moment, before I remember that I'm the new kid.

"Hi," I extend my hand, "Addison Montgomery. I'm a visiting surgeon from LA. Doctor Wilson is showing me around your beautiful facility."

"Right, Lisa Cuddy," she takes my hand and we shake, "I'm the Dean of Medicine here. Welcome to Princeton, Doctor Montgomery." And with that she turns and leaves. 'That was a little weird,' I think. Wilson checks his watch.

"Um, I think we should check out the ER first and hit the clinic later."

"Ok, that's fine. Lead on, Doctor." I smile. As we walk the halls, I marvel at the rich wood panels on the walls and the red maples in nearly every lobby. When we get to the ER, it's relatively quiet… just perfect for a tour.

Suddenly, the doors fly open and two paramedics rush in with a woman on a gurney.

"My baby! Help my little girl, my baby!" She screams. Wilson and I share a glance and shout, "Over here!" in unison, as the second gurney comes in with paramedics. The girl is at least six, really, she's far too old for me, but I can't just stand there and do nothing.

"What happened?" I snap to the lead paramedic.

"Six year old female, found strapped to her car seat and hanging upside down post MVA." I glove up and start palpating her abdomen to check for signs of internal bleeding. A blonde skids to a stop at my side.

"Who are you?" she bites out.

"I'm Doctor Addison Forbes Montgomery, and I happen to be a surgeon," I reply, checking her pupils. One is slightly dilated and sluggish. I point this out to the ER tech.

"I can see that!" she snaps, "I need you to move so that I can take care of this patient." I pull my hands off the little girl. The blonde and a team wheel the little girl to a curtained area and pull the curtain. The woman across the room begins to scream. I sigh heavily and pull off my gloves with a snap.

"That would be Doctor Cameron. The ER is her new rotation. She used to belong to the diagnostics department, until things fell apart over there. She's just trying to do her job as well as she can… I don't think she likes it as much as she liked diagnostics."

"Ah… no, I've just kind of accepted that I have to grow on people. It's a thing. When I'm new, I just have to expect that people are going to hate me until they get to know me. Thank you for not hating me, Doctor Wilson."

"Please, call me James."

"James… you should call me Addison, then." We both chuckle, even though there's really nothing funny about it. Across the room, the curtain flies open.

"I need help in here, and I need it now!" A nurse snaps across the room. No one moves.

"Now! Stat, dammit!"


	6. Chapter 6

Nurses and ER staff buzz around a recent admission; her abdomen is swelling so fast it can be observed with the naked eye. A tall redheaded woman in an expensive suit wheels towards the nurse, catching Wilson off guard. Taking two steps she starts issuing orders and gathering information.

"What's the status?"

"Severe abdominal distress, complications from the MVA it looks like." The redhead from this morning leans down and starts pressing and asking the woman questions. After a few seconds she snaps a look at the nurse. Wilson stands unmoving at the edge of the group.

"This woman is suffering from Compartment Syndrome, put her under, get me two scalpels and someone who can follow directions to the letter, or this woman is going to die!" She snaps, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. For an instant the nursing staff stares at her like she's out of her mind.

"Yesterday! Move, God dammit!" She shouts. I detach myself from the wall, gown and glove up, and grab one of the two scalpels offered by a nurse. We both get masked and someone puts glasses on our faces. The woman picks up the other scalpel, and right there on the gurney in the ER, she places her scalpel at a forty-five degree angle a couple of inches below the woman's right breast. I position my scalpel as close to the spot she indicates as I can get it. She starts instructing me as I do this. Under my hand, I feel the patient's abdomen swelling by the second.

"Mirror my movement, we're going to cut a V shape down to the navel, and back out to the pelvis, follow me exactly. Everyone else might want to back up." We begin to cut, each one a near perfect mirror of the other. In the wake of our scalpels, the flesh boils and blood gushes across the patient, the gurney, and the floor as her skin tears to relieve the pressure. When we are finished, blood spatters both of our gowns, our masks and glasses, as well as her pantyhose and shoes. The redhead kind of looks like Carrie at the prom, covered in a spray of blood.

"Let's get her up to an OR immediately! Move people!" She takes charge, still standing in the spreading puddle of blood, "Keep an eye on her pressure, don't let her bottom out, but don't hold her down to stop the bleeding. That'll complicate all the work that…" she looks at me, prompting me to give her my name.

"Doctor House," I supply and she nods.

"That Doctor House and I just did." She looks up, "She's going to need massive grafts… anyone know a good plastic surgeon?" I give her a smug smile. As they take off with the gurney, I can't help but notice, morbidly, that they leave bloody tracks and footprints in their wake.

"My guy will be right with you, let me make the phone call." I shout after them, "Isn't someone going to clean up this mess?" I ask loudly to the ER, as I pull out my cell. I dial and listen to the office line rings three times before a woman answers the phone.

"Diagnostics Department."

"Thirteen, get me Taub immediately." I order. The phone hits the desk, and a few seconds later, Taub answers.

"How are your skin grafting skills?" A pause.

"Child's play, I could do a graft in my sleep."

"Then I need you to get your ass upstairs and find the OR where a female doctor is prepping a patient who just underwent a fasciotomy. She's going to need extensive grafting, hope you haven't hit your caffeine quota for the day."

I hang up, and wait for the next available elevator before heading for the surgical floor.


	7. Ballroom Blitz

After four hours, we are finally done grafting the poor woman's abdomen. The guy from the ER has been standing in the gallery the entire time, periodically pacing back in forth in front of James, until James had left an hour ago. As I come out of the scrub room, I am startled to find him leaning against the wall outside the door.

"Greg House and you are?" He asks. I look at him in question, scratching at my scrub cap. He jogs my memory, "I was the guy with the scalpel earlier… I didn't get your name." I'm such a ditz… that's the LA getting to me.

"Right, sorry… There was the whole, 'Carrie at the prom covered in blood' thing going on. Addison Forbes Montgomery Sh… Montgomery." I offer him my hand, mentally kicking myself for my slip. Even after being divorced for a while, it still feels weird to introduce myself as just Dr. Montgomery, no Shepherd. He leaves me hanging and I put my hand down.

"Dr. Montgomery- Montgomery? Are you from West Virginia, or something?"

"I'm getting used to just going by Montgomery… I've been out of practice for a long time."

"Divorced?" He asks.

"Yeah… just finalized about three months ago." Dr. House seems to ponder this for a moment.

"How did you know it was compartment syndrome right off the bat?"

"A few months ago, a marathoner was brought in to the hospital I worked at, he was complaining of extreme leg pain. One of our orthopedic residents knew what it was, and I watched her and an intern slice this guys legs open from behind the knee to mid calf. It was amazing."

"I'm glad you were there. I haven't had a case of compartments since I was a fellow."

"What exactly is it that you do, Dr. House? I didn't catch a specialty." I catch sight of his eyes for the first time. They're strikingly blue, fiercely intelligent, and more than a little cold.

"I'm the head of the diagnostics department." He supplies easily.

"Impressive." I acknowledge.

"What about you?" He asks.

"Well, I'm a neo-natal surgeon who has currently traded her scalpel for a private OB-GYN practice. I do a lot of consultation, but not a lot of surgeries."

"I was really impressed with the way you took charge in the ER today. Most people would have frozen like a puddle in January."

"If I hadn't seen it done recently, I'm not sure I would have known what to do."

"Would you like to join me for a drink tonight?"

"Actually, I had plans to go out to dinner with my friends. They're the reason I'm out here. If you were interested, you could join us for dinner." His face contorts.

"Nah… I'm not the dinner type."

"Do you subsist off alcohol alone?" I ask.

"Nope… I also live on vicodin." He waves the cane at me.

"Ah, alcohol and vicodin… that seems like a healthy combination, Doctor House." I motion down the hall, "If you don't mind, I need to go get cleaned up and move our reservations back an hour and hope I can be ready by then. Have a nice evening." I say, brushing past him. He seems to be a very… prickly man. But, still… there's something in his eyes that I can't figure out. Something behind the intelligence and beneath the cold.

I find him attractive.

Shit.


	8. Goodnight

Halfway down the hall, she pulls off her scrub cap and releases a cascade of red waves. I sigh softly.

"Good night then, Doctor Montgomery," I raise my voice to be heard down the hall. She pauses about thirty feet away and turns.

"Good night, Doctor House." Addison nods at me.

I watch her turn around and walk away. When she disappears into the locker room, I turn and walk the opposite direction. Stopping off at the office, I'm surprised to find Thirteen sitting in the conference room alone.

"Did you bring me a case?" I ask, standing in the doorway.

"No," she answers curtly.

"Are you planning on finding a case for me?"

"I am not," she jots notes in a file.

"Then what are you still doing here?"

"I'm finishing the last of _your _charting, and then I'm going home."

"Would you care to go out for a drink?" I ask. She turns very slowly to look at me.

"Are you hitting on me?" She looks mildly disgusted.

"No," I pause, "Well, kind of. I'm not hitting on you, I just wondered if I got the brush off because I'm not attractive or because she really had other plans." I try to explain myself, "Anyway… it's none of your business."

"What the hell is your problem? Are you drunk?" She glares at me.

"No! I'm not drunk… I just…"

"Call me when you're sober, House." She cuts me off and walks out of the conference room. I roll my eyes. She's a child, why would I hit on her? I certainly never hit on Cameron, but not for her lack of trying. I pseudo-hit on her a couple of times, but only as the means to prove a point. Shaking my head, I decide to go home… no point to sticking around.

I let myself into my very empty apartment, dropping my things on the couch. For a while I busy myself taking care of the little things, like my impressive stack of three dishes in the sink. After a half hour I turn the television on for noise and try to decide between my vicodin and alcohol. I grab the pill bottle and down a few pills before making my way to the bedroom for some much needed sleep.

Five hours later, I'm pacing around the living room, cane in one hand and scotch in the other. Unable to sleep, I have been drinking since midnight. In a fit of restlessness, I sit at the piano and begin to play. My fingers roam through a half assed version of _Wonderwall_. I take another sip of scotch, feeling more and more numb. Again, fingers on the keys, I wander aimlessly through John Cale's _Hallelujah. _Thoughts spring to mind in a slideshow: seeing Addison Montgomery sauntering through the hall with that imbecile Ian Berger, helping her with the fasciotomy, that fantastic red hair spilling down her back, and finally being turned down for drinks.

'Which, I guess is why I'm drinking alone at almost four am.' I think. Dissatisfied with the piano, I get up and take my scotch to the couch. Sitting gingerly on the edge of the couch, I polish off the last of my alcohol in one swallow. Laying down, I think, 'Women: can't live with 'em, pass the beer nuts.' Before I drift off, I have one last, clear thought.

She's still super hot.

* * *

Weiss, Savvy, and me hit our favorite restaurant. I've been gone for over a year, and going to the City feels like going back to your alma mater. Everything's the same, like you were just there yesterday… and like you've been gone a hundred years. We talk and eat and drink coffee until almost two am. Thank God the diner never closes. It's just down the street from Derek and I's first apartment.

As we walk back to the car, I am slammed by nostalgia. I can recall walking these streets when I was fresh out of med school, and neither Derek nor I was making enough money to afford an actual house. We were so young and in love. The memory is so strong and cloying that I can barely breathe. I can't wait to put New York City behind me. I have them drop me off at my hotel in Princeton and watch them drive on to their hotel across town.

Sadness makes a cold hole in my heart as I get ready for bed. Shoving the thoughts away as best I can, I peel back the covers of my freshly made bed and slide between the sheets. Plumping one pillow, I move it to the center of the bed and lay down. I pull a second pillow close and snuggle down into the covers. I stare into the darkness for several long moments, thinking about the day.

Checking the clock, I find that it reads almost four am. This is always what happens when I get together with Weiss and Savvy, we're out until all hours of the night. It's hard for me to remember that I have to change the 'we' to 'I'. No more Addison and Derek. He has Meredith, and he loves her like he didn't love me. And Mark… Mark is still a man-whore. Pete isn't really seeing people… and even if he was, he's just like Mark. Except Mark's a man-whore because he can be; Pete would be a man-whore because it would be easier for him.

I sigh and angrily punch my pillow. Why do men only have to be in things for the sex? Isn't there _anyone _who's interested in settling down? I fidget for a few minutes.

Rolling over, I stare at the numbers on the clock, unable to fall asleep. I close my eyes in a desperate attempt to sleep. It's no help; my mind drifts on, unchecked. I find myself picturing Greg House, with his oh-so-blue eyes. 'He's trouble,' Naomi's voice whispers in my mind. 'Yeah, he is,' I agree.

I toss and turn for another half hour before I finally slip off.


	9. Chapter 9

By the time the day dawns, sunny and cold, I'm already up and around. My pulse hammers in my ears and I reach for the vicodin on my bedside table. Two hours of sleep, plus the alcohol still coursing through my system, is not doing me any favors. I hobble through my morning routine and hit the bus stop with my shades on.

The air bites, the sun doing nothing to warm it. It's one of Princeton's last cold snaps of the year, and Mother Nature doesn't appear to be pulling any punches. I feel like I've been bulldozed by the scotch fairy… run over, backed over, and hit again. Today isn't going to be fun. I can already hear Cuddy's voice yammering in my head.

I definitely have to stop hitting the alcohol and the vicodin at the same time.

As I ride, I impatiently tap my cane on the floor. Thump, thump, thump. Apparently this annoys my neighbor and he moves to another seat. The benefits of being a cripple… everyone's so non-confrontational. Through the window I watch the patterns frost traces across the various storefronts we pass, until we near the hospital. When my stop comes up, I heave myself out of my seat and head for the door. Halfway there, the door closes and the bus driver takes off and nearly throws me to the floor.

"Hey!" I holler angrily, "What the hell does a cripple have to do around here to get some respect?!"

"You need to sit down," the driver instructs.

"You shut the door on my stop. I need off this bus immediately." We argue heatedly for a minute before the driver slams on the breaks and practically throws me off the bus.

"Get the fuck off my bus!" he shouts. I hit the sidewalk and pause.

"Asshole," I mutter and straighten my collar.

As soon as the bus is gone, I hail a cab and get a ride straight to the doors of the hospital. When I walk in the front door, I am besieged by my fellows. Taub and Kutner have cases for me, Thirteen is delivering a message.

"Cuddy wants you in her office."

"Of course she does… and over her desk too, I suppose," I scoff. She rolls her eyes.

"Now, House."

"I'll get around to it."

"I'm supposed to make sure you come." I stare at her. She can't _make _me do anything. Stone Cold Steve Security steps up behind her, and I realize that he _can_. The man's neck is as big around as my thigh, and he looks about as bright. I look around, trying to find a way, _any _way, out of this situation.

"Kutner, Taub… go back to the office, I'll be right up. Soon as I deal with Cuddy." When Thirteen and the security guard part to let them by, I take off the opposite direction at top speed, alternately hobbling and bouncing on one foot. My top speed is no match for the guard, and he lets me know this by bouncing my face off the clinic window "accidently".

I go to Cuddy's office, but I don't go meekly or quietly. Crashing through the outer doors to her office, I shout, "What the hell do you want woman? I have lives to save." She turns to look at me with that look of icy disdain.

"Take off your sunglasses, Shaft, and come in," She says loudly. I pull my sunglasses off, but don't move.

"House, get your ass in here!" She shouts through the door.

"_Technically_, I'm already here," I bellow back. Cuddy glares at me with fire in her eyes. We stand there staring at each other for several long seconds before she comes to the door.

"House, I've had enough of you this week…"

"Haven't heard that one before," I mutter under my breath.

"Your fellows are stealing patients from other services… it has to stop here and now. When I have a patient that can't be diagnosed, I will call you, I promise. Until then, relax… do your clinic hours and for God's sake _chart. _This opportunity doesn't come around often in the medical profession, take it." She pleads.

"Whatever." I say, turning to leave.

I limp to my office. The team is already waiting for me.

"What happened with fasciotomy lady?" I ask, stepping into the conference room.

"You could care less about Mrs. Compton." Taub points out.

"No, seriously, what happened?" I try again.

"Oh… you _don't _care about the patient, you want to know what the deal is with Dr. Montgomery." Taub surmises, "She's hot." I give him a dirty look.

"Our car crash, fasciotomy lady… turns out the car crash was real, but her husband didn't think her injuries looked severe enough to collect on the insurance. He convinced her to let him hit her with a baseball bat in order to claim more insurance. When he plastered her, about the third or fourth time, something inside started bleeding… I'd say it was the spleen, judging from the damage we found when we removed it. She bled into her rectus sheath, but since connective tissue doesn't stretch, the slow ooze of blood from the spleen was enough to cause the sheath to start swelling. The more she bled, the more she swelled. The car crash the paramedics picked her up from was real… a stroke of really poor luck. She caused the wreck when she lost consciousness momentarily behind the wheel on her way here."

"More proof of humanity's stupidity and depravity. And don't even get me started on the _insurance _company," I mock. We sit quietly for a couple of moments.

"You two," I point to Taub and Kutner, "Go take those cases back to wherever you got them."

"Why?" Kutner asks.

"Because Cuddy yelled at him."Thirteen replies.

"Thirty-one, 'I like it both ways', shut up." I put my sunglasses back on, "I've got the hangover from hell, and your piercing, screechy voice isn't helping. Taub, you and Kutner get to do my clinic hours for the day for getting me in trouble." They leave, taking their cases with them. A couple of minutes later, I send Thirteen packing.

"You get to go do my charting, since you tattled about Cuddy." She slams her hand onto the table.

"Why, is it because I'm a woman? Charting is the only thing I could _possibly_ be good at?"

"No. It's because you have the best handwriting. Taub's is chicken scratch, and have you seen Kutner's? If I didn't know better, I'd say the kid was charting in Sanskrit." I limp into my office and sit in the good chair. I hear Thirteen get up and angrily stalk out the door. The door slams shut after her, leaving silence.

"Finally," I sigh, kicking back.


	10. Chapter 10

Standing at the window in Jen's room, I stare out into the central courtyard. I'm waiting for her to wake up so I can find out how she's feeling. The air still has a bite; I can feel the chill through the glass. Spring has not yet sprung in the Northeast. Five floors below, I can see the empty limbs of the maple trees sprawling over the top of lawn and concrete alike. Late morning sun dapples the ground. Behind me, I hear a gentle stirring, the rasp of sheet on sheet and I turn.

Jen is slowly waking up, and I step back from the window.

"Hi there," I say. She squints up at me, and I cross to the side of the bed away from the window.

"Doctor Montgomery," she says, recognizing me.

"I'm sure Doctor Berger talked to you last night, but I wanted to go over any questions you might have."

"I don't have any medical questions, but there are some things I'd like to know."

"Such as?" I ask. Jen stares at the blankets for a moment before she asks.

"What are Weiss and Savvy like? I mean, really? I've known them for just a few weeks, and you've known them for years."

"Well… you know the big stuff, like what they do for a living and where they came from. Obviously you think they'll make good parents, otherwise you wouldn't be considering them as parents for your child. This is a huge decision for you, and you aren't taking it lightly. You know from these last few weeks that they're good people."

"I know that they're good people. They seem so perfect; I'd just like to know that they're human." I chuckle at this.

"Trust me; they are just as human as you are."

"What have they ever done that's less than perfect?" Jen asks with a snort.

"Well, should I start with Weiss' run in with the irate building superintendant? Or, maybe I should tell you about Savvy's run in with the NYPD." Her eyes grow to the size of saucers, "Guess I'll start with Savvy." I sigh and sit on the edge of Jen's bed.

"OK… once upon a time, there was a young woman by the name of Addison Montgomery. She went to a very expensive, _very stuffy, _private academy. And one day she met a spitfire little blonde girl by the name of Savvy Marshall. Now, Savvy wasn't your average prep school student… after three weeks, Addison realized that a friendship with this girl might be the death of her." I see Jen settle back into the pillows.

"One nice, sunny afternoon in late spring, Savvy convinced Addison to ditch school. As they were roaming around town, celebrating their escape, they were busted by an officer of the law. Addison knew they were toast, but Savvy simply winked and said to run when she gave the word. The officer approached them; Savvy smiled a huge, and dangerous, smile and turned to the cop. When she turned around, not only was she flashing the poor cop a smile, she was showing off the twins." I pantomime holding the front of my shirt up around my chin, "As soon as his eyes dropped to her chest, she screamed, 'Run, Addie!' dropped her shirt and took off. For a second, Addison just stared at the cop. When he turned to look at her, Addison took off running in the opposite direction. They both escaped and lived to tell the story." I finish.

Jen sits in silence for a moment before she bursts into laughter.

"What's so funny?" Savvy asks, pulling the door partially closed behind her. Jen's laughter becomes nearly uncontrollable. I look at Savvy, I'm sure guilt is written all over my face. Her expression goes from questioning to pissed off.

"Goddammit, Addison Forbes Montgomery! I can't believe you told her that story!" I can't help but laugh my ass off at the look on her face. With Jen and I both in stitches, she can't stay mad for long.

"Every time she tells that story, she forgets to show you the face the cop made," Savvy's jaw drops and her eyes go wide, and it looks almost exactly like the expression Officer Friendly was wearing when he was suddenly face to face with Savvy's already nearly C cups. I listen to the two of them talk for a while before excusing myself.

Getting on the elevator, I make a split second decision and hop off the elevator on the second floor. I walk down the hall, passing the empty diagnostic medicine office, and turn the corner. Unable to help myself, I sigh in disappointment when I find Wilson's office door closed. Digging through my purse, I find a scrap of paper and a pen that barely functions. On the page I scrawl my name and the name of a restaurant down the street. As an afterthought I add, '1:30, if you aren't busy.'

I stick it in the door and step back to make sure he'll be able to see it. Satisfied, I turn to leave and nearly run over House.

"Hi," I say, surprised.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Nothing. I'm… um, I'm heading out, actually." I reply. He stares at me for a long second, his eyes tracing the contours of my face and hair.

"Right," he pauses, "Well…" he trails off, sliding around me and limping off down the hall. 'He's an odd, odd man,' I think watching him retreat, 'but there is something about him…' He pauses halfway down the hall and turns as if he can feel my eyes on him. Quickly, I pretend to be occupied reading plaques on the wall. I read four before I look up and find House watching me. When our eyes meet, his lips quirk up in a small smile, and I look away quickly. I turn around and hurry down the stairs, suddenly famished.

And not necessarily for the Panini's


	11. Chapter 11

I watch her walk away from me, the sway of her hips and the way her hair falls across her back. For an instant, I catch myself wondering if her hair is as soft as it looks. As I limp back towards my office, I think about how it would feel to run my hands through her hair. That leads to other thoughts that I quickly try to squash. Women like that don't look twice at crippled, middle-aged men like me.

'Stacy looked twice,' a voice whispers in the back of my mind. 'Yeah, but Stacy knew me from before, so she doesn't count,' I tell the voice, snarkily. I sneak a peek at Wilson's office as I walk by and I see a note stuck in the jamb. Making my way over, I pull the note out and read it. At least it's a good one, made it worth my while to check it out.

A feminine hand has written the words, "Addison Montgomery, Taste of Tuscany, 1:30, if you aren't busy.' I pocket the paper, 'I am _absolutely_ not busy… but I'm _absolutely sure _that Wilson is going to be busy.' He's sort of seeing Cutthroat Bitch anyways, he doesn't need to be seeing the surgeon too. Turning for the elevators, Cuddy rounds the corner and runs headlong into me. She stammers apology after apology as she tries to keep us both from going ass over tea kettle. When she's satisfied neither one of us is going down she looks up.

"Oh, it's _you,_" she curls her lip.

"Next time say it like you aren't happy to see me," I sneer right back.

"Where are you going?" She asks suspiciously.

"I'm taking lunch."

"Clinic hours start in thirty minutes. If you're late again, Nurse Brenda will see to it that you only get the obnoxiously simple cases." Cuddy threatens. Dammit, hot surgeon or good cases? I wheel around and head for the elevators at top speed.

"Tell her to have the tummy aches lined up," I tell Cuddy as the elevator doors slide shut. On the first floor, I get off the elevator and head for the door. Two steps later I am besieged by fellows. All three shove cases at me. I look at each in turn, two I refer to Wilson—just to keep him busy.

"I suppose this _might _be cancer," Kutner allows as he holds up a chest x-ray, "The Hilar lymph nodes did look a little larger than I thought they should…" He trails off.

"This one doesn't even look like cancer," Taub complains, tromping all over Kutner's train of thought and waving an MRI at me.

"How do you know?"

"There would be symptoms, House. Symptoms don't lie."

"Don't they? So, what… are you an oncologist now? Did you switch your degrees while I had my back to you?" Taub hangs his head, either out of dismay or frustration, I'm not sure which. In moments I've sent Kutner and Taub packing.

The third case shows promise, and I assign Thirteen to get the CBC. 'That ought to take care of everyone for an hour or so.' I think.

I use everyone's sudden departure to high tail it for the door.


	12. Chapter 12

I sit at a table by myself reading the latest gossip rag and enjoying my Panini. Taking a swig of my Diet Coke, I nearly choke when House walks through the front door of the restaurant. He surveys the room, and I scrunch down in my chair and watch him.

When his gaze locks onto me, I see his eyes light up in recognition and he starts toward me. I half raise my hand in a gesture of, 'hello, I was kinda hoping you didn't notice me'. He slides into the chair opposite me without an invitation.

"Sit down then, Doctor House," I say sarcastically. As the waitress passes by, House plucks at her sleeve and places his order.

"Where's Wilson?" I ask when the waitress leaves. In a moment she's back with a cup of steaming, black coffee. House waits until she walks away before answering.

"He couldn't come, sent me instead so you didn't have to eat alone," House supplies, stirring sugar into his coffee.

"How kind of him."

"It was actually my idea. He was just going to blow you off. Didn't think his girlfriend would appreciate him having lunch with another woman… what with his track record and all." House has my attention now and he knows it, "Jimmy Wilson, boy-wonder oncologist has a terrible track record when it comes to monogamous relationships. You can ask any of his wives… well, not Julie… but two out of three will tell you he's a letch when it comes to women." I chew my Panini thoughtfully.

"So, you want me… and you're trashing him. I get that this is some kind of pissing contest over the hot, out of town doctor…"

"He's my best friend." What I had been about to say dies on my lips. I must look confused.

"I'm keeping him out of trouble," House supplies.

"Yeah, but only because it advances your case. From what little I've seen of you in the past day or so, I can tell you aren't the type to cover someone's ass unless it advances your cause."

"Look, don't get me wrong… his girlfriend is totally hot, and I'd _love_ to be doing her; however, I think that Wilson might actually stand a fairly good chance of making this relationship work. Fourth time's the charm, and all that jazz. So… he doesn't need the temptation," He looks me up and down, "And believe me… you're pure temptation." I fight the urge to smile at him. My lips twitch involuntarily, and I sip my drink to hide it.

"Yeah… you're way hotter than Cutthroat Bitch." He leans back so the waitress can place a Ruben on the table in front of him. Even when he's hitting on me he's an asshole, but when he flicks his gaze up to meet mine, I find myself falling headlong into those blue eyes. I have always been a sucker for a man with blue eyes… but there's something different about House. There's intelligence... a razor-edge that I have never seen before. It feels dangerous… and I find it arousing.

"Are you always this sweet to Wilson's significant other?" I ask, amused.

"I'm nicer to her than I was to any of his wives. I was only really mean to her while she was one of my fellowship applicants. Guess I'm still not all that nice to her," he shrugs, "But I've always had a thing for redheads. That's one of the things that makes you hotter." I almost give myself whiplash trying to keep up with the conversation.

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah." He chuckles between bites of his sandwich. Glancing at his watch, he rolls his eyes.

"Fuck, I'm late for the clinic," he stuffs the last quarter of sandwich into his mouth and grabs his cane. Chewing dramatically, he swallows, "If you aren't busy tonight, stop by and see me." With that he's gone. As soon as the door closes behind him, I pick at my Panini for a few minutes before I decide that I'm done. I throw my trash away and grab my coat, heading back to the hospital.

My first stop is Jen's room to check up on everyone. For the next two hours we sit and talk. When Jen starts to drift off to sleep, Savvy and I talk quietly. I ask her about the menopause and she asks me about Derek… and Mark… and Pete. We have always been the type of friends who can see each other once a year, and pick up where we left off, just like time stops when we're away.

"Addie, you've got that look in your eye. This has nothing to do with Pete; he's on the other side of the country. Who is he?"

"I'm not sure." I say, and outline the coffee date from yesterday and the understudy at lunch today.

"Geez, the guy from lunch today sounds like a jackass." Savvy says.

"That's just it, Sav… the guy is a complete asshole, but he's the smartest asshole I've ever met. The guy puts Derek to shame, in the intellect department, or so I've heard."

"You should stick with the oncologist, if you're feeling the 'itch'." She says.

"Problem is; the boy-wonder is seeing someone." Savvy makes a face.

"Eww… you might want to just avoid them both. Ignore the 'itch'."

"There's… I don't know, there's something about the other one. He comes off as such a narcissist, but…" I trail off.

"What?" Savvy asks. I push myself to my feet and head for the door, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to see a man about a narcissist."

"Addie," she calls me back, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"You haven't seen him yet," I wink. Going to the second floor, I walk past House's office which is closed up and dark. I turn the corner and find Wilson's door propped open. A warm, inviting light spills into the hallway. I peer around the corner to find Wilson sitting at his desk, head bent over a pile of envelopes.

"Sorry you couldn't make lunch," I say, leaning against the doorframe. He glances up.

"What lunch?" Wilson asks, thumbing through a stack of mail.

"The lunch I invited you to this afternoon, the one you sent House to in your place." He looks up.

"I did what?!" He shouts before narrowing his eyes, "I mean, yes… of course… how could I forget? I had a… thing… today in the clinic at noon."

"I invited you to eat at one thirty." I arch my brow.

"Yes… unfortunately, my…" he falters, blinking slowly.

"Thing?" I supply.

"Yes, thank you… my 'thing' went until three."

"Ah… maybe next time then, Doctor Wilson." I push myself away from the door.

"Please stop back by before you leave, Doctor Montgomery," He says to my back. I nod and raise my hand in recognition. I get halfway down the hall before I think better of it and go back.

"Are you seeing anyone?" I ask. He levels those brown eyes at me.

"Yes," He says. I nod, "You were… interested?" he asks.

"Yeah… a little."

"It's not exclusive," he says, shrugging.

"Is that what you told Julie?" I ask impulsively. Wilson's shoulders sag.

"House has a big goddamn mouth."

"What's her name?" I ask.

"Who?"

"Your girlfriend."

"Amber… her name is Amber. And I'm sure House already told you she was an applicant for his fellowship. She didn't make the final cut, although she was in the top five."

"Yeah. I just wanted to know what her name is… I can't very well go home knowing her only as 'Cutthroat Bitch'." Wilson chuckles at this.

"House definitely told you about her. He's the only one that still calls her that."

"He's kind of an asshole, you know?" I observe.

"Yeah, House is a great doctor—trouble is, he's not always a very good man." Wilson sighs. I pat the doorframe.

"Have a good night, Wilson."

"You too, Addison." I walk slowly down the hall.


	13. Chapter 13

"House!" Wilson roars, throwing open my office door. 'Uh-oh,' I think, 'someone tattled to Jimmy.'

"Yes?" I ask. He paces back and forth in front of my desk, obviously agitated.

"You stole my lunch invitation?!"

"Oh, please. You didn't need it. I was protecting you from yourself." I watch him continue to pace.

"What?"

"You're dating Cutthroat Bitch, I figured you didn't need the temptation." He falls into a chair across from my desk.

"I can't go out to lunch with a fellow doctor?" he quirks a brow at me.

"Have you talked to Bonnie lately?" I ask. Wilson settles for glaring at me.

"Don't pull the 'cheated on your ex-wife' card on me."

"Don't make me." I threaten.

"Have you talked to Stacy recently?" he fires back.

"That's a bad example," I say, "We talked last Friday." Wilson looks surprised. "She's pregnant."

"What?!"

"Like I said, that was a bad example. Besides… you and your ex-wives are a completely different story."

"How did you know about a lunch date I didn't even know about?" Wilson changes subjects quickly.

"I'm not only a _brilliant_ doctor, I'm also a very gifted magician." I say, pretending to pull my thumb off and slide it up and down my hand.

"You erased my phone messages?"

"No… I found a note on your door." I wince.

"You stole a…" he shakes his head, "No. I guess I should be more surprised at my own disbelief than I am at the fact that you stole something you wanted." Wilson has a way of making me cringe at my own actions.

"What could you possibly hope to gain by having lunch with her?" I ask.

"For one thing, it's nice to talk to someone who gets to be on the living end of this profession…"

"_I'm _on the living end."

"No, you're too busy using people like rubiks cubes to give a damn whether they live or die."

"Not true," I reason, "If my patient dies, that spoils my chance of diagnosing them."

"But you also know that sometimes, even after you make the diagnosis, there's nothing more that can be done."

"I guess I do both…" I trail off, catching Wilson's eye.

"Sort of like Thirteen," we say in unison.

"You know, you should really stop picking on her," Wilson says when he stops chuckling.

"Psht!" I scoff, "Keeps the rest of the children in line." I look up and see Taub, Kutner, and Thirteen troupe past my window.

"Speak of the devil," Wilson quips, following my gaze. Cuddy rounds the corner on their heels.

"There she is!" I exclaim. She opens the door to my office.

"Need to see you in the conference room." Her tone is icy. The door starts to fall shut, and I can't resist a cheap shot.

"You're branching out," I say. She catches the door and stares at me, "Usually it's just the two of us in your office, blinds pulled, with you on top shrieking, '_Don't look at me_!'" The frown on her face deepens into a genuine scowl. She comes all the way into my office now. My team sits sullenly on the other side of the glass, watching disinterestedly.

"Now, House." Her voice drops into a 'don't screw with me' timbre.

"Sorry, Jimmy… can't play anymore. Mom's calling me for dinner." I say, grabbing my cane and standing up. Cuddy surprises the hell out of me when she latches onto my ear and starts hauling me towards the conference room. It hurts more than I would have expected, every little twist makes pain blossom along the side of my head.

"That's it! I've had it up to here, House," she gestures to her hairline with her free hand, twisting my ear, "You want to piss me off, you want to disobey me… that's fine. But today, I'm drawing the line at you disrespecting me!" Depositing me in a chair, she gives my ear a final twist out of spite. I look at her as if she's lost her mind. My team just stares at me, Foreman shakes his head.

"As of this moment, you have no authority to run tests. No one on this team has the authorization to run tests, prescribe medication… you don't even have the authorization to use the doctor's lounge! Thanks to Dr. Kutner, you're all lucky you can still eat in the cafeteria!"

"As much fun as this game of verbal Pictionary is, I'd like a better picture of what's going on." I say, raising my hand. Cuddy looks as if she might backhand me.

"Since you haven't had a patient for the last couple of days, you've had your team trolling for one."

"So what? They…" I start.

"They violated a DNR today." she cuts me off. I look to my team, and only Kutner looks me in the eye. I purse my lips.

"She was _dying_." He says.

"Of _course _she was dying! That's why she signed a DNR order. You do know that DNR stands for Do Not Resuscitate. What the hell were you thinking?" Cuddy splays her hands on the table.

"We didn't know!" Thirteen bursts.

"How?!" Cuddy shouts, "Did you not check her chart? It's that thing that hangs on the end of the bed, and it tells you things-- like whether or not a person is DNR!"

"If we hadn't been there she would have died alone." Kutner says quietly.

"You had no right to make that decision." Cuddy counters.

"Now at least her family will get to say goodbye. You don't always get the chance to say it… and I think everybody deserves the chance to say goodbye." Kutner stares her down.

"Get out." Cuddy says, barely above a whisper. Kutner shoves himself away from the table, grabs his coat off the peg and stomps out of the room. The door whispers closed.

"The rest of you… go to the clinic. I'm not going to pay you to sit around and do nothing. Put yourselves to good use."

"How are we supposed to get anything done if we can't prescribe medication?" Foreman and Thirteen start to get up, but Taub remains seated.

"I suppose you'll have to ask your fellow physicians to consult and sign off on it."

"No." I say. Foreman and Thirteen freeze in a half standing position.

"Excuse me?" Cuddy asks.

"I said no," I look to my team, "Sit down." They sit and watch the exchange.

"Don't mess with me today… you won't come out on the winning end." Cuddy threatens.

"It isn't everybody else's fault that Kutner didn't take the time to check that woman's DNR. Don't punish the rest of them."

"Not a single one of them bothered to check the chart. It wasn't until a nurse came to help that any of them even realized that they were supposed to let her go. By that time, Kutner already had her back." I look from Cuddy to Foreman, Taub, and Thirteen. Standing up and tossing a glare at Cuddy, I head for my office.

"Go get a start on your sentence in the clinic. I'll have your right to prescribe back before the ink dries on the first patient." The three of them get up and file out of the room.

"You can't just push me into getting what you want from me. There are rules and protocols to be followed, House." She follows me.

"You can't honestly tell me that your first instinct isn't to save a life. When you run into a situation like the one my team ran into, the first instinct of any physician is to snatch the patient back from death. It's what we do. In this case, we let the patient play God. They get to decide with a piece of paper whether they live or die. It's sick and wrong." I tower over her in the doorway.

She looks at me, taken aback, "That's funny, coming from you. _You_ screw with everyone_. You_ play God every week. _You_ play God fifty-two times a year, and you love doing it; love the control you're able to exert over people's lives. It sounds an awful lot like… oh, what's that word? Hypocrisy. _That's _what's sick and wrong. I'm trying to do my job so _you _can keep yours."

"What the hell does that mean?" I ask, crossing to my desk.

"Look at Foreman. I had to break down and rehire him because no other hospital would touch him. No one _will_ touch him because he acts just like _you. _If I'm the one that hired you, I can't very well refuse to hire Foreman."

"Reinstate their prescription authority."

"I don't feel like I can trust them enough for that right now." she says. I sit behind my desk.

"I'll do four extra hours of clinic duty." I offer. Cuddy stares at me.

"No. I can't accept…"

"Eight." I counter and she trails off. She seems to consider this.

"Sixteen."

"Twelve, and I get mine back too," I argue.

"Fifteen, and it's a deal.." She counters.

"Fine, just get it done before they have a chance to start writing 'scripts." She gives me a smug look and turns to leave. At the door, she runs into Addison. This is all I need now. They eye each other as Cuddy slips out the door and holds it for the neo-natal surgeon.

"What's wrong with her?" Addison asks, turning to look at me.

"Oh, mommy busted my chops and put my team in timeout for violating a DNR." I say. Her eyebrows arch nearly to her hair.

"How did that happen?"

"They were following their instincts as physicians."

"DNR overrides the Hippocratic Oath. Actually, they go hand in hand… 'first, do no harm,'" she recites.

"Yeah, well… I was never much of a fan of the oath."

Addison shakes her head in disbelief or outright denial, I'm not sure which, "And you function without regard for the most basic of medical… No, never mind. I understand. You get around the oath by knowing that you're doing what's best for your patient."

"Actually, I'm only here to figure out what's wrong with the patient… I don't particularly care what happens after I diagnose them." I say.

"Yeah, OK," she says in this tone that makes it apparent she doesn't believe me.


End file.
